


The Measure of His Surrender

by Minxie



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Challenge Response, KINK: D/s, KINK: bondage, KINK: breathplay (mild), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2010-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The greatness of a man's power is the measure of his surrender.</i>  ~William Booth</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of His Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/glam_kink/664.html?thread=75928#t75928) glam_kink prompt.
> 
> *smooches* to Red and SunShinyDay for the preread.

Adam takes him down slowly. He always takes Tommy down slowly.

He uses words – _precious… mine… I've got you, let go…_ – and touches – _feather-light caresses… hard scrapes of his nails…_ – and kisses – _chaste drags of skin against skin… breath-stealing, possessive plays of teeth and tongue…_ – until Tommy stops fighting it, harnesses the need to talk and babble, and starts to give in, just lets himself wallow in the sensations and the scents and the emotions.

Adam takes him down slowly until Tommy submerges himself in _Adam_. And then he keeps going, taking Tommy down even further.

He whispers things like _so good for me_ and _pretty boy_, and his hands move over Tommy's shoulders and arms, coaxing the last bit of resistance, the last bit of tension from his muscles. And when Tommy shudders and then stills, when he finally gives all of himself over and is arching into Adam's touch, keening softly at his words, Adam hums softly and presses his lips against the pulse in Tommy's throat, whispering, "Well done, baby."

Then, with Tommy's body pliant and his heartbeat steady, Adam's touches become purposeful and exact, twisting and turning Tommy until he is on his side with his chest and stomach pressing in, leaning against the soft support of a body pillow.

Dragging his hand over Tommy's leg, Adam applies a slight pressure, silently directing Tommy to bend his knee and pull his top leg higher, stopping only when Tommy's thigh is angled close to his chest and resting on top of the pillow.

Tommy whimpers, a high-pitched catch muted by his closed lips that taper when Adam massages the back of Tommy's thigh, pushing heat into the taut muscle.

"That's it. Ride it out," Adam murmurs as Tommy's whine fades into a near silent moan.

And then Adam slips a length of black rope around Tommy's thigh and another around his ankle, tugging and pulling and winding the ends through the slats in the headboard. "Relax, baby. Let it hold you."

Tommy sighs and releases the hold of the position, lets his leg fall into the rope's grip.

The rope pulls against the pale flesh of his thigh. Adam traces his fingers over rope and skin, and they both know that tomorrow Tommy will be aching and marked, a bruised line from the burn of the rope decorating the pristine skin.

Sitting back on his haunches, Adam simply stares, lets his eyes wander over Tommy's body. He takes in the entire scene. The golden, sun-kissed arms. And the contrast of sloping leg muscles and jutting, angular hipbones. The way the light dances, reflects off the flush and sweat of arousal, and the way it creates a dusky shadow along the cleft of Tommy's ass.

"So fucking pretty." Adam leans in, licking and tasting, mapping a crooked path over Tommy's spine and up to the back of his neck. And then, biting down, leaving a perfect imprint of his teeth, Adam adds, "And so very much mine."

Pushing back into Adam's touch, Tommy's mouth drops open and he moans, "Yes."

Tommy's fingers flex –long and locked to curled and tight and back to open again – grasping, tangling in the cool cotton covering the body pillow. The slight movement draws Adam's attention away from his lazy inspection. "Arms up, Tommy."

The rumble that echoes through Tommy vibrates against Adam's hand. This, this absolutely needy, wanton noise is why Adam calls Tommy a kitten. His boy _purrs_ at the mere thought of his cuffs. Thick black leather too heavy to be forgotten yet still wide enough to support Tommy's wrists, to keep him safe and healthy and able to perform.

Adam buckles the bands of black tight around each of Tommy's wrists. Stretching over Tommy, he runs a foot of black rope from the headboard down through the d-rings of each cuff, pulling the rope tighter, adding to the stress on Tommy's arms, until he hears Tommy gasp. It's a broken hitch of a sob, a half uttered plea.

And it's Tommy's tell, the noise he makes when he's completely gone and ready to beg for his pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?" Adam rakes his nails down over Tommy's shoulders and back. "You like being at my mercy. Taking everything I give you and having to ask for more."

"Yes… no…" and then with unconcealed need, "_Adam_."

Adam smirks. Tommy is _gone_, blown wide open with all of his defenses down.

"Ready for me?" Without waiting for an answer, Adam sinks two fingers into Tommy's slick hole. "Oh, yes. Yes, you are."

He pumps his fingers in and out of Tommy's ass, slow easy strokes meant to push Tommy closer to the edge, make his every nerve-ending flair to life.

"Pl..." Tommy stops, licks his lips and tries again. "Please."

"M'hmm," Adam murmurs, one hand working Tommy's ass as the other feels out the condom and then smoothes it into place. "I got you, baby."

Draping himself along Tommy's back, Adam snakes one arm under Tommy's head and loops his fingers around the mass of black ropes wrapping around Tommy's thigh. Then, with a twist of his fingers, Adam pulls the rope tighter, lifts Tommy's legs higher, and, one hard push forward, Adam slides in balls deep.

"Oh... oh, oh, fuck..." Tommy gasps, the words quickly morphing into unintelligible grunts.

"Jesus. So goddamn tight." Adam keeps one hand tangles in the black ropes, randomly tightening and releasing his grip, never forming a pattern or a rhythm, while the other roams Tommy's body. He holds tight onto Tommy's hip, scratches his thigh and his back and his ass. He dances fluttering, fleeting touches over Tommy's abdomen.

And then Adam slides his hand up and over Tommy's chest, fingers flicking his nipples and then teasing his collarbone until, with a groan, Adam slips his hand around Tommy's throat.

Tommy mewls shamelessly, and bucks into – _out of_ – the tightening grip.

"Easy, boy," Adam growls and, snapping his hips, he pulls hard on the black rope and squeezes, pulls in and up against Tommy's throat. Nose pressed against Tommy's hair, Adam whispers, "Now, baby."

And Tommy comes untouched.

* ♥ *


End file.
